Belief is a fickle thing
by en jaune
Summary: Belief is a fickle thing. Is it?
1. Depth of despair

**Hey there. This is supposed to be my first fanfic, but there was another one I wrote about 3 years ago. It sucked, so I deleted it almost immediately .-.**

**Forget about it. Basically this is the first story that I've truly put effort into, so please be gentle with me :**

**T****his is what I've come up with in order to ****put**** my heart ****to**** rest after ****watching the movie Bridge to Terabithia (2007). It was fine; the quality wasn't something I'd expect but the ending stole my heart. I almost cried, but what was left of my brain ****at that time**** told me no. ****I fell into emo mode for 2 weeks afterwards.****  
Anyways, read and review please. Thank you for your time.**

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_Disclaimer:__ Bridge to Terabithia and Percy Jackson series belong to Katherine Paterson and Rick Riordan respectfully. This story is non-profit and I am not affiliated with any person, company, organization __who own those two novels and the characters._

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_I fell for your magic_

J.

731 days. He counted.

731 days in agony. 731 days of self-wallowing in misery and torment.

Nightmares were no longer strangers, now that they had seemingly become perpetual companions. His bed always reeked of sweats and tears; so often that he gave up changing his bed sheets.

His mind, once filled with life and hope, now filled with bitterness and despair instead. He often found himself awoke in the middle of the night after living through the same terror that haunted him almost daily: Leslie Burke, being the same old innocent and playful girl, was running in excitement towards the rope hang above the creek, P.T following closely by her side.

Running just right next to her, a 12-year-old Jesse Aarons was shouting at the top of his lungs, begging her to stop. She would just ignore his pleas and continue to run on the same track. He tried to hold her back, but every time he reached forward, his hands would pass right over her flesh; it was like he didn't exist. Jumping onto the log, she took hold of the rope-_that damned rope- _and prepared to swing over the creek. She leapt up, not knowing what was coming, and unknowingly looked at the sky one last time with a bright smile plastered on her beautiful face.

Even knowing what was going to happen, Jesse was forced to witness the scene over and over. The rope was supposed to do its job, carrying her over the raging water in the creek. As she made it past the middle of the creek, it snapped. Following the inertial force, Leslie's body was turned over in a back flip. In the blink of an eye, she landed head-first, her head collided with a stone, her body submerged into the dim water. Tears running down furiously, Jesse dove into the torrent to save her.

It would be futile, after all it would be the same ending again and again: her face floating on the water, her golden locks flowing animatedly; with a glassy look in those eyes, she would croak:

_Why didn't you come, Jess?_

Then his scream would carve into the empty silence of the night, as always.

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**So, what do you think? Again, thank you for spending your time reading my work. Can't really deny that I'm inspired by IhateSnakes. He/She is a really nice person, always replies with a kind respond. ******Next chapter would be longer, I promise. This is like a premiere.****

**13:50 3/3/2020**


	2. Things happen

**T****heme music: Run - Joji**

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_Disclaimer:__ Bridge to Terabithia and Percy Jackson series belong to Katherine Paterson and Rick Riordan respectfully. This story is __for__ non-profit __purposes__ and I am not affiliated with any person, company, organization __who own those two novels and the characters._

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_I know that I'm stuck, in this misery_

J.

For the last two years, Jesse Aarons had tried his best to go on with his life.

Believe him, he tried. Taking up the courage he never knew he had, he took up a bunch of classes that he had never bothered to try out before: Literature, Creative writing, Poetry, Ancient Greek and Mandarin.

The last two was a complete surprise to both his family and himself, as he hadn't even made contact with any _reference _of those two. He guessed it was just a sudden impulse. Nevertheless, he excelled in Ancient Greek, which is another big surprise. The whole supposedly dead language and culture somehow made sense to Jesse; with the gift of imagination, the Ancient Greek world came into life before his eyes,_ 'just like Terabithia'. _With Mandarin, he seemed to out of luck; at least he got down a few things, however not worthy of mention.

After his family eventually was able to stabilize the financial situation, having saved up quite a large sum, his parents sent him to New York, getting him into a fancy school called Goode High School. They thought it would be best for him if he no longer stayed at Lark Creek, as it was obviously reminding him of his deceased friend and let him learn how to be independent at the same time. Killing two birds in one stone, someone might say. Of course, they still occasionally visited him, looking after your children and siblings is something a good family wouldn't ever cease doing. And that was probably why he was still feeling guilty about the last visit not so long ago.

* * *

'_The weather is getting worse', Jesse thought. He was supposed to make a quick visit to the art supply store as he was running short on supplies, but it turned out that the store was a mile away from where he was living at. On the way back, the wind suddenly picked up, quite violently as it was. He felt chills running down his spine, even though he had put on a cozy coat._

_A few minutes later, Jess could be seen running like there was no tomorrow back to the dorm, enfolding the package filled with art supplies in his chest._

_Opening his dorm door, he rushed into the room. As he breathed in and out heavily, he put down the package in haste and turned to look, just as a familiar voice made itself known._

"_Jess! You big dummy, a big storm was coming, and you decided to wear just_ a coat_?" The voice, turned out to be May Belle's, cried in worry._

_Almost jumped in surprise, Jesse stepped over the study desk and greeted his sister with a hug and a soft smile. "Hey there, May. How are you doing?"_

"_Why thank you, mister Healthy, I'm doing fine." Her eyes rolled sarcastically, but quickly turned into worried eyes as she looked at the sight of him. "You, in the other hand, seems to be otherwise. Have you been eating, Jess?". His lanky looks turned on her alarms._

"_Don't worry, I'm fine." He reassured her. "I'm just doing a bit of saving-ups; a few lunches given up, and it's not that much, really."_

"_Where is Dad and Mom? Surely you didn't come alone, right?" Jess __glanced down at her. _

_In two years, he had grown so much that barely anyone recognized the little boy all these years ago. Reaching 5 feet 9, he basically towered over many kids in his age. Despite his lanky looks, he developed a few muscles, resulting from his exercises and track-running, giving him an athlete body. _

_He let his hair grow, his bro__wn locks that used to be hanging over his eyes now were swept over both sides. His lost baby fat gave him a leaner face, added with the soul-piercing eyes, he gave off the feelings of a 17-year-old instead; anyone who looked at him for the first time would easily be tricked into thinking he was an adult. Except his family and those who knew him long enough, of course._

"_Hmph, nice try. Anyways, I came with Dad only, but he said he had some businesses down the blocks, so I was told to stay here with you until he comes back." May Belle slowly answered. She bit the inside of her cheeks, and asked, a bit daringly. _

"_But really, you look worse, compare to the last time I saw you." She gave him a worried look that an eight-year-old shouldn't have. "Was it bothering you again?"_

"_May,... please, I don't want to talk about it." Jess said wearisomely. "Can we talk about something else?"_

"_Jess, I know you still miss her, but it has been two years." May Belle __cracked, she didn't enjoy any of this either. "You have to let her go, you're killing yourself."_

"_Then what do you think I am trying to do, May?" He gave her that resigned look. "However hard I try, I couldn't get it out of my head. I…" He contemplated, struggling with the sudden rush of memories. _

"_It is my fault, May. It is my fault she died, it was me who decided to be selfish. Had I stayed, had I gone first, she wouldn't be laying six feet_ under._ It should have been me instead."_

"_I was given an angel, and I let her go. __I could never forget, May; because the moment I forget about her, I would disrespect her legacies." He teared up._

"_You are disrespecting her with the way you're living, Jess." May Bell scowled, her mixed rage and sympathy continued to confuse her, the same feeling she had dealt with ever since her sister figure's death. "She wouldn't want you to live like this. The least you could have done was to take what she had taught you and __move__ on, but you __didn't."_

"… _get out." Silence took over for a second._

"_What?"_

"_I said, get out, May. I don't want to speak about this anymore." In his eyes, tiredness, desperation, anger, all of them interwoven, his cold fury seeping out._

"_Wha…"_

"_I SAID, GET OUT!". He boomed, his shoulders shaking violently._

"_FINE, YOU JERK!" May Belle cried, tears running down her round face. "You disappoint me, Jess. Can't you see I am trying to help you?" She left without another word, slamming the door behind her._

_Sitting alone on the bed, __as __raindrops were beating furiously on the window, __Jess cried._

* * *

Shaking out of the memory lane, he quickly grabbed his books for the next class and dashing towards the room he was supposed to go to. Having done this almost a thousand times, Jess easily covered the ground in record time.

He pushed the door, and checked the clock. _7:59. "Shit, _almost late." He cursed quietly.

Flopping down his assigned seat, he began to take his books out, sighing in relief. "I'd better stop that stunt."

"What stunt, dude?" Someone voiced over across the seats.

That someone turned out to be Percy Jackson- the only one Jess considered as a close friend.

"_Eavesdropping_ on me is not cool, Perce. Act your age." Jess said, his eyes twitching in irritation.

"Uh huh, brooding all the time is _sooo_ mature." Said the other boy, being sarcastic as always.

Percy Jackson- an enigma that Jess hadn't been able to figure out. His full name was Perseus Jackson, but he insisted on the name Percy. Jess once asked why, and the answer came with an eye roll.

"Dude, it makes me feel like an old man. You happen to discover that an ancient hero had the same name as yours, and believe me it bothers you like nothing else." Jess made no comment, he could relate. His grandfather, whose name was also Jesse, was a hero himself back in World War II.

Back to the matter, he found himself both lucky and unfortunate meeting Percy Jackson. This guy was like no one else. Percy was always a laid back person, being someone who didn't give a fuck about what others say, as long as they didn't mention his friends and family.

Percy had a personality of a ten-year-old, as he was mischievous and full of tricks. There was one time after a particular P.E class, the whole jock team found their clothes stuffed with itch powder. It turned out that the team had tried to bully Percy's cousin- Tyson; keyword: tried. Jess still shivered whenever he thought about it. '_Note to self: never piss him off'_.

Percy and him had too much in common in looks. Give Jess a hair cut, dye his hair black and you would see another Percy pop out. The guy had a fit body and did very well in sports, even though he didn't do much. He could have compared him to Perry the Platypus, but Percy would kill him before he make that statement.

Aside from that, he was a good friend. Much like _her_, he always appreciated his artworks, giving compliments here and there. Percy persuaded him to follow his passion and 'put that amazingly imaginative mind into use'. He was considerate, as he would comfort him whenever the nightmares wrecked him. He wouldn't push things too far or too close to home, making sure that Jess was in his comfort zone. For that, Jess was grateful.

The only thing that Jess didn't like about him was his cheeky attitude. _Too cheeky_. Or it was just only him. Jess realized long ago that he wasn't exactly a sociable person himself, but he didn't give a shit about it back then and it wouldn't change anytime soon.

Percy told him that he lived with his mom in the city all the time, except for summer when he had to go to some mysterious camp. Jess caught the name, _Camp Half-Blood_, as Percy once slipped out of his mouth talking to him. Jess wondered to himself that why this guy would go to this camp which sounded racist even from its name. _'Is it a camp for bastards?'_, he thought. Jess didn't know how right he was.

"Bro, are you ignoring me? Earth to Jess, hello? Anyone home?" Jess shook his head, getting his head out of the clouds and caught Percy waving crazily at his face.

"_Sit down_, the class is going to start soon." Jess half-scowled, half-smirked in amusement.

"Copied that, Captain. ETA 10 seconds. Beep bop." Percy rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue.

Soon, he found himself sitting idly, looking at the projector board in not-so-faked boredom just to spite the teacher. The lesson was good, but the teacher could have made it to be more interesting. It didn't help that his drone-like voice continuously tried to put him into sleep. And he didn't get much sleep last night, either.

'_Great', _he thought. '_Come on, 3 more hours. It would be a breeze.'_

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Three hours later, Jess dragged himself into the cafeteria with an empty stomach, his eyelids drooping dangerously.

"Why did I jinx myself? God, I should have eaten breakfast this morning." He groaned, flopping on a random bench and took out his lunchbox. Cold spaghetti , a few slices of pineapple, salad, and fettuccini. If Percy was there, he would have said with an incredulous look: "Are you Italian by any chance?".

Speaking of the devil, Percy literally jumped at the bench and took a seat next to him.

"Dude, you look like hell. Eat up, and get some sleep."

Jess sighed. "It won't do any good. I can't sleep anyways."

Percy shot him a worried look. "Is the… vision acting up again?". Jess glanced at him, silently told him, _'I don't want to talk about it'_.

"Sure," Percy shrugged. "Are you up for the game tomorrow?"

"What game?" Jess was too tired this morning, so he didn't pay attention to the timetable.

"Tomorrow. We're going to have a dodge ball game." The raven-hair teenager informed him, bringing a blue cookie to his mouth.

"My legs do need a work-out..." Jess pondered. "…yeah. I'm in."

"Grawpe," Percy chewed, and finally swallowed his food. "Great. See ya tomorrow. And remember to spray some deodorant, your armpits smell." Finishing the line, Percy dodged the incoming swat at his head and ran, only to turn back and laughed at Jess.

"… I hate him sometimes." Jess grumbled.

The rest of the day, nothing was mentionable. Jess wished so.

* * *

After an exhausting day, Jess threw himself at his bed. Breathing slowly, he turned his head, only to meet the lovely eyes of _her_. He flinched, and calmed himself immediately. _'It was just her picture.'_

Ever since her death, Jess had made several attempts at putting his heart and soul at rest by drawing her, but none of them were good enough. The only reason why he wasn't able to was because he couldn't illustrate _her soul_. Her spirit, her soul was so unique to him that he couldn't figure out how he should portray her. He wouldn't ever make a half-ass attempt and call it a drawing. No, he won't care about anything else, but not her. Hers must be perfect. Thinking of her, he saw her twinkling eyes looking at him, a lovely smile on her face, motioning for him to come. But every time when he tried to take a step towards that figure, the image would dispel and he would be left looking at a blank space.

Sighing, he pushed himself up and approached his work desk. Laying on the harden wood surface was a sketch notebook filled with numerous drawings, varying from childish doodles to illustrations of objects. Next to the desk was a painting stand, holding up a watercolor painting he was working on.

Jess flopped down the chair and took up a brush. He began to make a few simple touches on the painting, starting from the outline. What a person could make out of his painting could only be described as an ethereal sword.

The sword was beautiful. It had a form of ethereal blue halo around it, being accompanied by streams of blood interweaving with each other. Its hilt was cylindrical, with the middle seemed to be made from white ceramic and black wraps at both ends. Etched on the hilt was a _giao long_\- a legendary aquatic serpent in Vietnamese folklore- with its head reaching out to the cross and its mouth opened; one could think it was screaming. The guard of the blade was made from tempered steel, and it was beautifully embellished by mystical patterns. The pommel was interesting, its design was similar to kashira- a part that could be seen on a Japanese katana. Carved into the pommel was an image of an ancient crane, obviously relevant to Van Lang culture. The blade was _breath-taking_; it was seemingly made from some kind of blood-red metal, giving off a deadly ambiance. The edge seemed to glow, as if the sword was drawing power from the universe itself.

Overall, it was astonishing.

Jess didn't know why he painted it either. The image of the blade came to him one day and he just went for it. He couldn't explain the feeling of being connected whenever he think about it. It was a faint connection between him and the blade, at least so, but he couldn't figure it out and gave up trying to.

As he finished painting the sword, he took a look at it. _'Wow, I didn't know I could draw like that'_, he wondered with an amazed expression.

Jess put down the brush, and checked the time. 7pm. He wasn't feeling hungry, so he figured a nap would be nice. _'I didn't get much sleep last night either'._

Putting his head on the soft pillow, he fell into sleep almost instantly.

* * *

_Jess opened his eyes, and before him was a very familiar scene._

"_No, no, NO!" He screamed. "NOT THIS AGAIN!"_

_Leslie Burke standing at the other of the road in all her glory, waving at him with a challenging smirk. "Come on, you slowpoke! Race you to Terabithia!" And then she turned and ran away._

"_No, please, god… no. LESLIE!" He cried, his feet kicking furiously against the dirt road, trying to stop her. But once again, it was futile._

_Again, he was left devastated, looking at her soulless eyes once again, and hearing her last whisper:_

"_Why didn't you come, Jess?"_

_He screamed at the sky._

* * *

Jess snapped his eyes open and roared into the air. _Fuck_, he silently cursed. This was the first time he had this nightmare twice in a day.

'_It is becoming more usual.'_

Jess shook his hair and looked around. His bed was soaked, again, and his body too. "I need a bath, seriously."

Still shaken from the experience, he slowly pushed himself against the bed head and walked towards the bathroom. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something strange. His eyes stretched wide in surprise.

"_What the fuck?!"_

Laying on his desk was a sword. The same sword he just finished painting not too long ago.

Jess fainted into obliviousness.

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**And that is the second chapter for you guys. A fellow from my country just reviewed my story and I was so happy that I decided to post the second chapter in the same day. Thank you so much, I appreciate all the support.**

**Additional note: I decided to revise my work, and I found a lot of dumb mistakes here and there. I hopd you don't mind ^^**

**Revised 5:01 4/3/2020**


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